


Lift Me Up So High

by Hazzalovescarrots



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: I still suck at tags as always, M/M, Non-Smut, Shadowhunter AU, and stuff happens, institute, just kissing i guess, larry stylinson - Freeform, oh screw this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazzalovescarrots/pseuds/Hazzalovescarrots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a law student, along with his friends Niall and Liam. When he is out late at night, he bumps into two mysterious guys. Shadowhunters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title based on the song Heart by Heart by Demo Lovato from the TMI soundtrack. Basically I read the Shadowhunter Codex and decided to write this. They all have Shadowhunter names. I don't own the TMI universe or 1D so

Harry had never been to London.

   He had always stuck to his hometown, Holmes Chapel, but this had been about his education. The University of London offers the best law courses and Harry, who has dedicated a lot to his education, was willing to leave home for it. It was a big decision and his mum had been in tears when he’d left.

   Upon arriving in London, he had gone straight for his apartment, which he had known he’d be sharing with two other boys. He had sort of been surprised to find that the place was already trashed. Bottles, beer cans and candy wrappers littered the floor. Two boys sat on the floor, controls in hand, playing FIFA. Harry had just rolled his eyes and unpacked his stuff. Easy as that.

   Now, though, his life is anything but simple really.

***

“Damn it, Nialler,” Harry mutters as he accidentally steps on a guitar pick and it digs into his foot. “Look, I know you love that bloody guitar, but I won’t hesitate to smash the thing if you don’t clean up your mess.”

   One year into Uni and Harry is kind of done. He is twenty years old and he feels like he lives with two five year olds. They mess stuff up, they are lazy and they interrupt his studying. But what can he say? He loves them, like brothers, the bastards. He had honestly thought that Liam would be tidier, but at the moment, there is a turtle crawling on the floor, that has three legs, and it’s all Liam’s fault.

   “I’m serious, Niall. Clean up, mate.”

   “You can’t make me!”

   “Yes, I can,” Harry sighs and tosses Niall a dirty sock that lay on the floor. “Now, get to it.” What Harry doesn’t see coming is that Niall jumps up from his place on the bed, grabbing his guitar, yelling.   

   “You gave me a sock. A piece of clothing. Dobby is a free elf!”

   Harry groans in frustration and throws himself onto a bed when the Irish boy bolts out the door, basically screeching that he is free. He grumbles about lazy idiots for a while and when the turtle starts nipping on his toes, he screams into his pillow and grabs his jacket. He storms out of the apartment, rubbing his temples.

   It is dark outside and chilly, which Harry hadn’t anticipated. He draws his thin jacket around him and breathes out white puffs of white mist. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and trudges forward. The sky is dark and the stars are out. Harry likes the sky. He has scattered tattoos over his body, inspired by it; constellations of stars on his left shoulder and a moon at the very top of his spine, just below his hairline. He likes the different variations in colour above; dark pink, light red, yellow, all the blues and blacks of the night.

   Harry runs a hand through his hair and gazes down the street. A few feet ahead, he sees two dark shapes struggling against each other. His eyes widen and he starts walking faster to break it up, but another shape is added to the mix and pushes them into an alleyway. Harry frowns and speeds up, using his long legs to hurry up. If it’s one thing he hates, it’s bullying and two against one is just unfair. He arrives at the mouth of the alley and sees two of the shapes surrounding the other one.

   “Hey!” he shouts. He freezes when three sets of eyes focus on him. “Stop hurting him!” He rushes forward, but the taller of them steps in his way, nudging him by his chest.

   “You don’t understand,” The young man says and he doesn’t look that much older than Harry himself. “You need to leave. Run.” He goes to push him away, but Harry fights back.

   “I’m not going anywhere until you stop hurting him.”

   “Hurting _him?”_ The boy says incredulously. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Just-”

   Harry jumps when the figure laying on the floor snarls and lunges at the man, bringing him down to the ground. He gasps out when he sees that the figure has red eyes and claws and purple tinted skin.

   “Zayn!” The other shorter one shouts. He rushes forward, digging at his belt, which Harry sees has all kinds of weapons hanging from the edges. He brings out a thin blade, made of some milky white stone. “ _Cassiel.”_

   The blade shines and the boy throws it with precision and a grace, that Harry has never possessed, at the figure curling itself around Zayn’s throat and torso, choking him. The blade embeds itself in the monster’s side and the thing screams out in agony, writhing and releasing Zayn, who huffs out a breath. As it writhes, one of its claws slices through Harry’s jeans, cutting him, but the boy barely notices, too shocked. The monster explodes into dark goo. Harry makes a disgusted face. The other boy helps Zayn up, arm around his shoulders, holding him tight. It is too dark to see their faces.

   “What the hell was that?” He exclaims. Zayn scoffs.

   “That, useless mundane, was a demon.”

   “Zayn!” The other one blurts. He has a lighter tone to his voice. It is softer and a bit raspier. Harry likes him better. “Shut it. He doesn’t know what he saw.”

   “He shouldn’t have _seen_ anything. The one time, _one time_ , we decided not to use glamour because it’s ‘too dark anyways’, he shows up.” Zayn sounds annoyed, looking disdainfully at Harry.

   “First of all,” The other boy starts, pointing a finger in his direction. “I do not sound like that at all. Second-”

   “Oi!” Harry shouts. “I’m still here. Would you quit your bickering?” Zayn looks at him, disbelief on his face and he lunges forward, but the other boy holds him back, patting his chest.

   “Calm down, babe,” He says. “He’s harmless.”

   “Not entirely,” Harry mumbles and the boy lifts his chin to raise his eyebrows at him. “Look, would you please just tell me what is going on? I-“ He cuts off, swaying on his feet, pain striking through his leg. He braces himself against the wall and groans, eyes rolling back into his head.

   “Mate, are you okay?” The soft voice of the boy calls, sounding faintly worried. “Zayn…look at his leg.”

   “Shit, he’s been poisoned.”

   “We have to take him to Ashtower. Now.”

   The next few moments are a blur. Sweat beads above his brow and he feels his weight be supported by a frame smaller than him, that doesn’t feel as strong as it really is. The body feels delicate and soft. His other arm is thrown over a different shoulder, a bit lower than himself and he is much rougher than the boy on his right. He harrumphs and decides to lean his head to his right, nestling his face into the boy’s hair. He smells nice, too.

   He doesn’t know how much time passes until his left side is completely dumped, leaving the other boy grunting, trying to support him fully. It makes the boy have to wrap both arms around his torso and Harry isn’t complaining. He is too out of it to create words and he mumbles nonsense.

   “What happened?” Someone shouts. “You brought a mundane to the Institute?”

   “He needs help!” Oh, the angel voice. So soft and sweet. “Demon poison.”

   A deep sigh. “Fine. Bring him to the Infirmary.”

   With that, Harry blacks out.

***

   There is a bright light running over his eyelids. His leg is tingling and it jerks involuntarily. Someone holds it down roughly.

   “Hold still,” A deep voice says. Zayn. Harry gasps. The events that happened in that alley all come back to him in rapid motions. He writhes when he remembers the demon and cringes when he’s pretty sure that he drooled all over a pretty boy yesterday.

   “Be nice, Z. He’s been through some pretty bad stuff,” Harry remembers that voice clearly. The angel voice. The nameless boy that he drooled over. He winces at the thought again.

   “We go through bad stuff every day,” Zayn huffs, sounding annoyed. “Why is he the one being babied?”

   “Because he’s not like us. He’s a mundane.”

   “Louis, I really don’t giv-”  

   “Mr. Goldchild is right,” Another voice is added to the mix. This sounds older, more mature. Harry groans and struggles a bit when the pain comes back to his leg. A hand soothes over his forehead. Harry hears a scoff, probably Zayn. He opens his eyes to see bright ones reflecting his own. They are blue, like the sky but also like the ocean at the same time. It’s Harry’s favorite kind of blue. He blinks, thinking that he must’ve hit his head. “He’s not like us.”

   The next thing Harry notices about the boy hovering over him is that his face is sort of feminine, really. Gently curved eyebrows, one of them raised in an amused expression, shining eyes, high and sharp cheekbones, thin nose and swooping, curling pink lips. His hair is down in a fringe over his forehead, caramel brown and soft-looking. His skin is sun-kissed and blemish-free. Harry is speechless.

   “But you’re wrong about one thing,” The older one says and Harry’s eyes fly to him. The boy, Louis, helps him sit up. That’s a nice name, Louis. _Oh, shut up._ He looks to the foot of his bed to see a broad, muscular man stand next to a slimmer, darker one with his arms crossed. “He’s not a mundane.”

   Louis freezes and backs away slightly. Harry frowns at that, but he stares as his lips drop open a bit, breathing in before he speaks. “If he’s not that, then what is he?”

   “I don’t know. We’ll have the Silent Brothers come look at him. He’s not fully human, that’s for sure.”

   “How do you know?”

   “Look at his leg,” The man simply says. Harry gazes down, as well as the others and his jaw drops. What he swore had been a large, wide, blood-red wound cutting just below his knee, is now a pink line, healed yet still tingling. Louis draws in a sharp breath beside him. Harry gulps and reaches down to run the tip of his pointer finger around the edge of the line, the feel of it tingling.

   “Well, he’s definitely something, alright,” Zayn comments dryly, smirking when Louis gives him a reproachful look.

   “What’s your name?” Louis asks, much nicer that Zayn.

   “Harry,” he says and shifts against the pillows. “Styles.” The older man approaches and stands next to Louis. He offers a gentle smile and folds his hands in front of him.

   “Well, Mr. Styles, I’m Paul Higgins Ashtower. The boy with the attitude is Zayn Malik Nighthunter and this is Louis Tomlinson Goldchild. We are Shadowhunters.”  

   Harry stares at them for a minute. Then, he laughs. “You’re _what?”_

   “This is not a joke, Mr. Styles,” Paul says, serious look on his face. “I speak the truth. I am under oath.” Harry’s face scrunches up in the way it does when he’s confused.

   “Under oath? What does that mean?”

   “I’m leader of this Institute,” Paul says and places a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “I’m responsible for everything going on under this roof and that means I’m obligated to give valid information to the ones who decide to stay here.” 

   “And I’ll be staying here?” Harry questions nervously.

   “Yes,” Paul nods. “Until we find out what you are. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Styles.” He smiles at him and Harry gulps before giving a weak smile back. Paul exits the room, leaving Harry alone with Louis, who has his hip cocked to the side, hands placed at his hips, and Zayn, who is clenching his jaw, making him look undeniably attractive, but the sour face is kind of putting him off.

   “You want the grand tour or just the basement?” Zayn says harshly. Harry cocks his head to the side.

   “What’s in the basement?”

   “The dungeons,” the boy answers wickedly. Louis rolls his eyes. He moves over to Harry’s legs and drags his trouser leg down over his healed cut and flips the covers back, making Harry shiver.

   “Can you stand?” He asks, holding his hand out. Before Harry can take it, though, Zayn comes over and pulls his friend back by his shoulder. Louis frowns at Zayn and places his hand over his. “Jeesus, calm down. He’s just a boy.”

   “He isn’t though, is he?”

   “Look, Zayn,” Harry begins, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.

   “It’s Nighthunter to you, kid.”

   Harry looks at him, eyebrows raised. “I seriously don’t think I can call you that without sounding sarcastic.” Louis snickers into his fist, biting his lip when looking up at Zayn, who has clenched his jaw again, apparently trying to refrain from punching Harry. He opens his mouth, but Louis interrupts him.

   “Hey, if he would’ve wanted to hurt us or kill us, don’t you think he would’ve done that already?”

   Zayn pauses, considering. He still looks suspicious and disliking, but he stays quiet.

   “Grand tour, it is then,” Harry says, grinning wolfishly.

***

Harry is shown a lot; all but the library. It takes two days for the Silent Brothers to even respond to Paul’s call.  So far, he’s accepted underneath Paul’s wing, but he still isn’t quite trusted. He is extremely confused and spends his time frowning at things he doesn’t understand, causing Zayn to huff, annoyed and Louis to chuckle. He learns that the two Shadowhunters are _parabatai,_ which basically means an extreme bromance. 

   Harry likes the music room best. During his second day at the Institute, Louis had taken him there and the room has practically every instrument to ever exist. It had left Harry in awe.

   Louis also leaves Harry in awe. The way he moves, just by walking from one shelf to another, is graceful and elegant. He has a certain warmth about him that reminds Harry of the sun, high in the sky. He finds himself staring more often than not and has to force himself to look away. Louis sometimes brushes past him and just the feel of his shoulder against his arm sends tingles through him even when it shouldn’t.

   After a while of just walking around, being shown paintings and writings, Zayn stops them.

   “Alright, this has gone on for long enough,” He says. “Louis, we have training.”

   “Well, we’re not putting him in a cell,” Louis protests. “He can come with us.”

   Zayn sputters, but Louis just ignores him, brushing past him to talk hold of Harry’s forearm, taking him with him. Harry grins, smirking at Zayn, who just throws his arms up in frustration and follows.

   The training room is really only a room with mats on the floor. The walls are white. Targets, both small and large, line one wall, and under them, there are chipped marks, from the people who have missed. There are wooden beams in the ceiling that crisscross with ropes and suspension wires hanging from them. There are two doors, one on each side of the room and Louis heads directly towards the right one. Harry simply trails after and holds the door open for Zayn, who rolls his eyes.

   Louis walks over to a row of lockers and opens one of them. They look different. Instead of dark red doors like in high school, they are black and instead of regular things like football gear, leather and more dark material are taken out. Louis sets them on the bench and starts to unbutton his long-sleeved shirt. He doesn’t get very far, to Harry’s disappointment when the darker-haired boy seems to think of something as his eyes widen slightly and his mouth opens.    

   “Okay, hold on a minute,” He says and grabs Harry’s arm. “Are you gay?” Harry blinks rapidly and leans back. He clears his throat awkwardly and glances over to where Louis is looking back with glinting eyes.

   “Uh, yeah,” he eventually gets out. Zayn twists his mouth to the side and turns to Louis with a firm expression and raised eyebrows.

   “No,” He says simply. “Absolutely not. Out.” Harry looks to Louis, confused, but the boy is trying to, unsuccessfully, hide his grin. His arms are crossed and his gaze is locked on the ground, but Harry can still see his grin. He wonders briefly if there is anything going on between them romantically when he is rushed out of the room. He hears Louis laugh a bit.

   “That wasn’t necessary,” he says, smile in his voice. Harry can hear them through the door. He settles his back against the wall and leans his head back.

   “Who knows?” He hears Zayn answer. “What if he’d take a liking to you? We don’t even know what he is.”

   Louis scoffs. “What if I’d take a liking to him?”

   “Then, I would lock you in the basement and call the Silent Brothers.” 

    Harry doesn’t hear Louis’ answer, but the point comes across. Zayn doesn’t want him anywhere near him. He plops down onto one of the mats in the corner. He frowns, patting down his jeans pockets. He finds his phone and brings it out. There are several missed texts and messages from both Niall and Liam and he sighs, writing back that he is with a friend.

   When the two boys come out again, Harry’s jaw drops. Sure, he's seen some of their Marks, sticking out of collars and cuffs, but this is completely different. They are covered in the Marks, black swirling marks running up their arms and over their collarbones. They look especially good on Louis’ sun-kissed skin. The boys are wearing extremely tight clothing and have leather belts strapped across their hips. Louis’ shirt seems to be made of some sort of spandex. It stretches with him when he moves and it clings to every fucking gorgeous part of his body. Harry groans out as quietly as he can and hides his flushed face in his hands. He groans louder, though, when Louis turns around and bends over to pick up a bow staff that’s lying around.

   Zayn seems to hear and bursts out laughing when he sees Harry in the corner, ducking his face. He nudges Louis. “Told you.”

   Louis grins. “Did you ever think that maybe he was looking at you?” Zayn laughs harder.

   “Yeah right. He hasn’t been able to look at you without blushing, for the past two days. And even I have to say, this new gear is a little too tight for my liking.”

   Harry feels his cheeks burn and sighs, letting his face fall into his palm again, but then Louis giggles and his head flies up again. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever met a guy who _giggles._ Even so, it is terribly endearing.

   “You two are ridiculous,” Zayn comments and twirls his staff around.

   The boys spend a few hours in training. Harry just settles for staring at Louis. He tries flipping a bow staff, but ends up smacking himself in the face so that’s not something he’ll be trying again anytime soon. Louis and Zayn fight one on one with the staffs for a while, both winning equal times. Then, they practice throwing knives at targets and by the way Zayn hits his target every single time, Harry is happy that the Shadowhunter has warmed up a bit and doesn’t give him disapproving looks over his shoulder anymore. Something that he is even more happy about, is that Louis is sending him looks more often, over his shoulder.

   “Goldchild!”

   All the boys start and face the new person in the room. It’s a girl with lavender purple hair and a nose piercing. She wears a black tank top and black jeans that go up to her waist. The Marks of a Shadowhunter climb up her arms and there are a few visible on her collarbones and at her waistline. She smiles brilliantly at Zayn, who grins back and it makes Harry practically huff out in relief. That catches her attention and she blinks, suddenly remembering why she came in the first place.

   “The Silent Brothers are here,” she says simply.

   They walk down a few corridors that blur together in Harry’s mind. These past few days have been a lot to comprehend and it muddles his brain. The girl and Zayn walk hand in hand in front of them while he walks in stride with Louis.

   “Who is that?” He says curiously. Louis smiles as he sees Harry nods towards the girl.   

   “That’s Perrie,” He answers. “Perrie Edwards Keyweather, who is soon to add a whole lot of other names to that list.”

   Harry frowns. “What do you mean?” Louis leans in closer and it makes him blush slightly. He mentally curses himself at that. Louis’ voice is soft when he speaks.

   “She’s Zayn fiancé. They will be married sometime in September, I think.”

   Harry thinks for a moment and tugs on his lip with his thumb and forefinger. “Do you…um, have a girlfriend?” Louis bursts out in laughter and Zayn turns around, eyebrows raised. Louis holds the back of his hand against his lips and giggles, which Harry still finds really cute.

   “God, no. I’m gay.”

   “And the people here are okay with that?” Harry questions and that makes Zayn hiss at the front. Louis rolls his eyes and nudges his shoulder against Harry’s.

   “Um, well,” he starts and pauses, licking his lips before continuing. “At the New York Institute, there is a boy who recently came out as gay. People don’t like it, but they seem to accept it well enough. That’s not the only thing, though. He fell in love with a warlock.”

   “That’s bad?”      

   “He’s a Downworlder,” Louis says and steps slightly away. “Remember what I said about them?”

   Harry nods. “Werewolves, vampires, warlocks and faeries. The comings of demons and humans, diseases and so on.” Louis nods gravelly. He looks to the front and Harry can see that Zayn’ head is tilted to the side. He’s listening in on their conversation. “Would you ever date a Downworlder?”

   Louis doesn’t get a chance to answer the question, because they enter a room, where two hooded figures stand, along with Paul. The fireplace is crackling with fire and when the hooded figures turn around, Harry gasps. They both have their mouths sewn shut with thin, black thread and where their eyes should be, there are just empty sockets. Harry doesn’t mean to look scared, but he cowers behind Louis, who chuckles. Zayn, however, doesn’t find it so funny that Harry grabs Louis’ hand on a whim and holds it tightly.

   Louis’ lips part and he looks a little caught of guard. Harry clears his throat roughly and drops it, blushing. _Again._ Harry sighs and looks back to the Silent Brothers and Paul, who regard him with a soft yet firm expression.

   “Harry, this is Brother Jonah and Zerameel. They will examine you,” Paul says and Harry flinches at the word ‘examine’. He steps back a little and one of the Brothers stands up taller.

   _Don’t worry, Mr. Styles,_ A booming voice sounds in Harry’s head and his eyes widen with fear. _We won’t hurt you. Shall we begin?_

Paul nods and waves Harry forward. “It’s alright, boy. You’ll be fine.” Louis smiles at him encouragingly and he warily steps forward. Paul sets his hand on his shoulder and tugs him closer. “Goldchild, Nighthunter and Keyweather, you need to leave.”

   Louis seems to want to protest, but shuts his mouth in the last second and lets Zayn throw an arm around him. They walk out and Harry is left with the two Silent Brothers and Paul.

***

Louis is pacing.

   He is not one to pace. It makes Zayn uncomfortable; he can tell. The boy is sitting on the floor, picking his nails with a dagger. Louis arches an eyebrow.

   “How do you refrain from pricking yourself on that?” He asks curiously. He crosses his arms and plants his feet firmly on the ground, as if it can keep him from the pacing. Zayn grins wickedly and taps a Mark on his right shoulder.

   “Precision, babe,” He sticks his tongue out to the side and Louis narrows his eyes.

   “They’ve been in there awfully long,” he comments. Zayn sighs and tosses his knife down onto the floor next to him. He rests his chin on his hands, elbows braced against his knees. He shrugs.

   “Maybe they found a problem in his brain,” He says and Louis smacks him over the head.

   “What is up with you?” He asks incredulously. Zayn has never been like he is, now; rude and snarling. He has always been really down to earth and supportive and the kindest Louis has met. Ever since Harry got here, he’s changed. Zayn sighs heavily and pats the spot on the floor next to him. Louis sits down.

   “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just worried. I see the way that boy looks at you and what if he turns out to be bad? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

   Louis bites his lip and leans on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m a Shadowhunter, Zayn. I’m strong. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. You know I can take care of myself.”

   Zayn’s head thumps back against the wall. He hums. “Fine. But if he does hurt you, I’ll kill him.” Louis shakes his head in amusement and pinches him right above the Parabatai rune. He opens his mouth to retort but in that moment, the door bursts open and they both jolt, eyes wide. It’s Ashtower.

   “You may come in now.”

   The room inside is warm and smells like magic. The fireplace is aflame just as before. The only difference in the room is that Harry is sat on the table, face white and body still. His hands clutch the side and his knuckles pale. He stares down at his knees, frown lines between his brows. His hair hangs down on his forehead. It curls a little and is a soft chestnut brown.  

   Louis is staring. Zayn punches him in the shoulder and he playfully snarls back, though it comes out as a puppy whine. Harry’s eyes fly up and he catches Louis’ gaze. He looks dejected and scowls at the ground. Louis tilts his head in confusion. Is the news that bad? Louis gulps.

   _Your friend is fine,_ Brother Jonah speaks in their minds. _More than fine, really. Ashtower will tell you the rest. We have other things to attend to._

   They all nod; Harry in awe, Louis and Zayn in respect and Paul in recognition. Brother Zerameel moves towards Louis and Zayn with a spook-like grace, feet barely touching the floor. The empty sockets of his eyes seem to stare at them intensely.

   _Guide him. He’ll need your help,_ he says in their minds. Then, he seems to turn to Louis. _Especially you, Goldchild. If you speak, he’ll listen._

   Louis bows his head, hands clasped behind his back. He swallows. The Silent Brothers look terrifying and most of the time, they speak in riddles, but they have incredible meaning to their sentences. Zayn sets his hand on Louis’ shoulder and ducks his head, too. The Brothers leave. Paul claps his palms together, but Harry interrupts by flinging himself off the table and running out the door. Louis’ mouth drops open and he holds out his arm in vain. Harry rushes past, throwing the doors open and disappearing to the right.

   “Let him be for a while,” Paul says. “It’s been a lot to process.” The two Parabatai turn to him in confusion, wanting answers. They mirror each other in their stances, crossing their arms and adopting firm expressions. Paul sighs and leans against the table for support. “The boy is part Shadowhunter.”

   Zayn raises his eyebrows in surprise, but he hangs up on the ‘ _part_ Shadowhunter’. “What else is he?” Louis thinks back to Harry’s leg and how it healed so fast. They never saw any sign of any runes on him and he clearly had no idea the Shadowhunter world even existed.

   “Werewolf,” Paul lets out and it makes both boys frown.

   “But,” Zayn protests. “Shadowhunter blood is dominant. How can he have healing properties if he’s not a full-blooded werewolf and doesn’t have any runes?”

   “He’s special,” Paul twists his mouth to the side and shrugs. “The Silent Brothers couldn’t fully figure it out, but we’re guessing his parentage has something to do with it. His father is Des Styles Merrytree. He’s half Shadowhunter and half werewolf. His mother is a full-blooded werewolf. We suspect that the werewolf blood took over some of his capabilities.”

   Both boys are speechless for a while. They stare, open-mouthed, at Paul. Many questions still run through their minds, but Louis’ first thought is Harry. He looks to the ground for a moment and Zayn nudges him.

   “Go after him,” He says. Louis nods and gives a small smile. He rushes off. Harry hasn’t spent enough time at the Institute to actually know where he’s going so Louis just makes his way through it as fast as he can, sprinting up winding stairs and hurrying around crooks in hallways. After a while, he pauses, leaning against a wall, barely out of breath but disappointed that he can’t seem to find Harry. He rubs his temples and cracks his knuckles.   

   He hears a faint noise coming from the door down the hall. It is music. It sounds like the plucking of guitar strings. He frowns. It could be Harry, since the boy had taken such a liking to the specific room, but a lot of people in the Institute can play the guitar. He inches his way there. He peeks inside and sees Harry, barefoot, playing softly, head down. Louis can only see him from behind and he sees the way his shoulders bunch. Louis moves closer. He doesn’t have the Soundless rune so when his feet hit a creaky board in the floor, he cringes, the sound carrying throughout the room.

   Harry jumps and turns back to blink at Louis. He scratches his bicep and starts to pluck at the strings again. He doesn’t speak at all, just stays silent as Louis sets a hand on his shoulder. He does shift uncomfortably, though and it makes Louis’ heart twinge. He pulls it back and his fingers curl at his side.

   “Haz, please say something,” He says lowly. He then raises a brow. “At least tell me why you have no shoes.”

   Harry smiles, but his eyes seem empty. “A girl took them from me. Said they were too dirty and needed washing. She left me barefoot in the middle of the hallway.” The smile disappears. “You’ve never called me Haz before.”

   “That would be Cassie,” Louis grins. “The maid. She likes things clean. And it fits you. The nickname, I mean.”

   Harry shrugs and sets the guitar back in its stand before rubbing his face vigorously, making his cheeks turn red and his eyes blood-shot. Louis sits down on the piano bench and leans forward, setting his elbows on his knees.

   “So, I heard you’re a Shadowhunter,” He says and almost cringes at his choice of words. Not exactly the best ice-breaker. He sighs deeply and ignores Harry’s incredulous look. “Sorry, that was…just rubbish. Please just talk to me. I don’t know what to do, or what to say, clearly.”

   “I’m a werewolf,” Harry replies simply. “And a Shadowhunter. I am here in an Institute, sitting with a boy who is part angel, part human and has an unreasonable amount of tattoos that aren't permanent and which, by drawing them on your skin, you get powers from them. Two hooded guys without eyes and lips sewn shut spoke to me _in my mind_ and then I ran out and a girl named Cassie stole my shoes. How’s that for talking?”  

   “I get that you’re confused,” Louis tries to say as gently as he can. “And that all this is a lot to process. I want to help, Haz. Please tell me how.”

   Harry looked up at him, eyes considerate and lips caught between his teeth. “You said you could play, right?” He says gesturing towards the piano. “Play for me.”

   Louis blinks rapidly, not really expecting that. He pauses for a minute before patting the bench beside him and shifting around to face the piano keys. Harry sets down beside him and their shoulders touch. Louis nudges him a bit.

   “I reckon you haven’t heard much of Bach?” He asks. Harry laughs and shakes his head. Louis, happy that he made him laugh a bit, grins and puts his hands on the keys, testing out a few notes. “I know Mr. Brightside.”

   Harry’s eyes light up. “By The Killers?” Louis nods. “Wicked.”

   Louis sets his focus on the keys, figuring that Harry might be too distracting. He hasn’t played this very song in a while so he scratches the side of his nose before biting on his fingernail. He licks his lips and then begins again. Harry shuffles closer and he tries to be nonchalant about it but he coughs and without actually noticing, he plays faster. He shudders when he feels Harry’s breath light on his neck and his leg nudging his. He hums along to the song while at it. Louis’ fingers are delicate and thin, made for the piano. Harry reaches and traces the skin of them, making Louis draw in a quiet gasp and pause. They are bit calloused, as every Shadowhunters’ are but the back of his hands are softer than Harry’s. He has a ring on his left index finger, made out of gold. It has a G in the middle and on either side of it, there are indents with the imprint of a sun.

   He sees the difference between their hands. Louis’ are slight, small and elegant while Harry’s are long, broad and honestly clumsy when you get down to the point. Harry takes hold of the pendant dangling from Louis’ throat and rubs over the surface. It’s a rune, he understands that much, but he has no clue which one. Louis fully stops playing and tilts his head so their foreheads almost touch.  

   “It stands for good luck,” He comments. “And this is my family ring. All the Goldchilds have it.”

   Harry doesn’t even hesitate to take his hand in his and runs the pad of his thumb over the G in the middle. Louis’ breath hitches from the close proximity and Harry’s does the same when he leans in further so their noses nudge together. They lean forward simultaneously and their lips touch, gently at first but they answer with equal fervor and press their sides together. Harry reaches to clutch the other boy’s waist and Louis goes for the baby curls just at the base of his neck, just above his moon tattoo. He clenches them and they slide between his fingers like soft silk. Louis opens his mouth tentatively and Harry groans, responding with quite a bit of tongue. The kiss is desperate and they cling to each other. Louis’ legs come up to fold in Harry’s lap as the boy pulls him closer, tucking him in close to his body.

   “Thought you didn’t date Downworlders,” Harry comments sluggishly, every part of his body responding to Louis, who answers with a bite to the boy’s jaw.

   “That’s what you're worrying about?” He says and Harry shrugs, trying to look nonchalant but his eyes give him away. Louis shakes his head. “You’re more. So much more.”   

   Harry inches him backwards, slowly until his back lies on the bench. He hovers over him and Louis hums into his mouth, running his open palms over the hot skin of his neck and shoulders. They continue to kiss languidly before it picks up pace again and Louis dares to slide his hands underneath Harry’s shirt, feeling the muscles tense and move above him. Louis is still wearing the tight training suit; he’d only thrown a pair of sweats over them and Harry lets his touch roam over his slender waist, his curvaceous hips, his thin yet muscular arms and prominent collarbones. Louis lets out a little whimper that makes him want to touch him more, but a cough interrupts them. They break apart and turn their head to the doorway, where Zayn and Perrie are standing. Perrie full-on grins, while Zayn’s smile is a bit more discreet, but they are clearly quite amused, by the looks on their faces.

   “Harry,” Zayn says, friendlier that other times and Louis would hug him, if he weren’t in quite the compromising position he is currently. “Ashtower wants to speak with you, about a more permanent place here at the Institute. If that’s alright by you?”

   Harry looks down at Louis, who is still pressed up against him, hair ruffled and lips swollen, coy smile on his lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”    


	2. Lifts Me Out Of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry stays at the Institute. He is trained and taught to be a Shadowhunter. And not only do I suck at tags, I also suck at summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the Information I've got is from TMI series and the Shadowhunter Codex.

Harry is so screwed.

   His finals are coming up soon and both Louis and Zayn are pestering him about Shadowhunter training. Ever since they had all found out that Harry is part Shadowhunter and part werewolf, he has taken up permanent residence at the Institute. Liam and Niall had been very confused as to why he moved out so suddenly, barely with notice. The only way he could explain is that Harry has decided to move in with relatives. Technically, it is true. He does have a cousin at the Institute, named Merrytree, like Harry.

   He still goes over to his mates’ flat, even though Louis insists he carry a thin-bladed dagger with him every time.

   He and Louis are going strong still. Every night, when they are all supposed to be sleeping, Harry sneaks into Louis bedroom, curls up against his back and snores into his neck. During studying in the library and breakfasts in the kitchen and hang-outs by the fire, they steal kisses from each other. Louis often comes up behind him when he’s cramming in knowledge from the Shadowhunter Codex, tea mug in hand and runs his free one through Harry’s curls affectionately, making him purr with pleasure. Zayn worries that they never get any training done when they are together, but he usually ignored them and complains about it to Perrie, his newly wedded wife.

   Louis meets Niall. The meeting goes splendidly; the Irish boy completely taking to the Shadowhunter’s presence and laughing at every sassy comment and well-placed joke. He just rolls his eyes at Harry’s badly-made puns while Louis shakes his head sadly. Liam is working. He must, since his family isn’t the richest of people and he has to pay half of his tuition.

   “So, what do you do?” Louis freezes when asked the question by Niall. He isn’t used to socializing like this and hadn’t thought of an alibi to cover up his story.

   “Uh-I…write music,” He blurts and Harry raises an eyebrow, surprised but when Niall flashes his white teeth at him in a bright smile, he grins back. The boy is honestly a child.

   Louis likes Niall equally. He apparently senses the playfulness in him and he, being the little shit he is, convinces the poor boy, while extremely _hammered_ of course, to run around the campus grounds, buck naked.

   “He’s going to be so humiliated, Lou,” Harry protests. Louis pulls him down by his shoulder, being too short to reach his ear. Harry shivers when he feels the boy’s cool breath against his skin.

   “I’ll put a glamour on him,” He murmurs softly, woozy from all the beers and vodkas. “No one will know. I got his back, Hazza. He’s our baby.”

   _Yep, totally wasted,_ Harry decides. He feels his heart clench, though, when he refers to Niall as ‘their’ baby and throw an arm around him, pulling him in close and burying his face in his hair while they watch Niall, from the balcony, flail around on the grass, bum cheeks pale in the night. The two burst out into manic laughter when they see the boy slip and pass out entirely. Louis sighs.

   “I’ll get him,” He slurs a bit and Harry is about to protest but the boy has already thrown himself over the railing of the balcony, landing perfectly on his feet even though positively smashed out of his mind. Louis stumbles over to Niall and nudges at him with his foot. He repeats the motion before giving up and collapsing next to him, staring up at the starry sky. Harry rolls his eyes fondly and laughs. And that’s how the three boys end up sleeping outside on the grassy plane of the campus.  

   Harry wakes up to Louis hovering over him, eyes so blue and cheeks red. It reminds him of when he’d woken up in the Institute, Louis’ eyes being the first thing he saw. Now, they glisten a bit from all the alcohol of the previous night. Harry hums with delight and reaches up to wrap his arms around the boy’s waist, pulling him down.

   “I have to go, babe,” Louis says and runs his lips very lightly over his, the faintest of touches. “Zayn called. There’s been some sort of killing by Leicester Square. We need to go check it out; Paul’s orders.”

   Harry groans and traces the tips of his fingers over Louis’ marks. He digs his nails into the stamina rune, grinning and yanks him down, kissing him hard. Louis makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat and trail his hands up Harry’s torso and shoulders, melting into his touch. After a while, when they begins to hear Niall snoring again, Louis mumbles into his mouth and pushes away.

   “Seriously,” He says with humour laced in his tone. “Zayn’ll kill me if I’m late. You know how he gets.”

   Harry rolls his eyes and lets him go, sitting up himself. Louis grins, ducking his head to bite a mark just under Harry’s jaw. He crawls over to Niall, ruffling his hair and pressing a swift kiss to his head. Niall is their baby, Harry decides.

***

Louis and Zayn are in the training room.

   Harry knows this because he is leaning against the frame of the door, watching as the Parabatai dance in front of the big mirror to Talk Dirty to Me by Jason Derulo. Louis shakes his hips and shoulder-pops his way over to Zayn to hit him upside the head before dancing away, swinging his sword. Zayn growls play-fully and jogs after him, leaping up onto his back, but Louis twists away, causing them both to tangle their limbs together and fall to the ground. They wriggle around on the floor, Louis wrapping his legs around Zayn’s waist and flipping them, so he’s on top. He waves his hands in Zayn’s face and just to annoy him, leans forward a bit with a devilish smirk.

   “Talk dirty to me, Zee-Zee,” he says and rolls away, taking off to the other side of the room before Zayn can catch him.

   “You are an annoying little shit,” Zayn comments. “Tell me, how does Harry put up with you?” Louis picks up his wooden staff and twirls it in-between his fingers skillfully.

   “I’m great in bed,” He winks at him and Zayn cries out, slapping his hands to his ears.

   “I didn’t need those images, thank you very much.”

   “It’s true, though,” Harry decides to cut in. Louis’ head perks up and his eyes light up a bit when he sees him. Zayn scoffs and shakes his head fondly. He has warmed up to Harry remarkably in the last two months. He drops his sword among the collection of weapons and snaps his leather bracelets off. He takes his belt off as well and disappears into the locker room. Louis grins and practically skips over to his boyfriend. Harry smiles and leans forward for a kiss and intertwines their fingers. Louis meets him halfway and they press close together.

   It starts sweet and then Louis makes a noise in the back of his throat when Harry lets go of one his hands to pull him in by his waist. He reaches up and traces his fingers over his moon tattoo at the back of his neck and he fists his hands in his curls, tugging on them gently. Louis has to stand on his tippy toes to keep their bodies perfectly aligned and Harry helps by lifting him up and setting him on his own feet. Louis hums contentedly and when they pull away, he moves to wrap his arms fully around his neck and press small butterfly kisses all over his face.

   “You two are more disgustingly cute than me and Perrie,” Zayn huffs. “And we just got _married.”_

   “Oh, sod off,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s neck. He feels the vibrations of his boyfriend’s answering chuckles. He steps down from his feet and unclasps his belt, dropping it to the floor carelessly, as if it wasn’t stocked with lethal weapons.

   Suddenly, the door of the training room bursts open and Ashtower comes in.

   “Demons. Two blocks from here. Suit up now.”

   Zayn and Louis jump into action, strapping weapons across their chests, to their belts and in thigh sheaths. In all black, Harry thinks Louis looks devastatingly gorgeous and it isn’t fair. Sure, Zayn looks good as well, but Harry only has eyes for his boyfriend. Louis wears a black tight shirt that cuts off at the shoulders. Zayn has an axe strapped to his back and his arms are being marked up by Louis’ firm hand.

   Ashtower turns to Harry. “You too, kid. It’s time for you to shine. We need all we can get.”

   Both Louis and Zayn freeze and blink rapidly as Paul breezes out of the room. The taller of the Parabatai just glances at Harry before taking his own stele and marking himself up while Louis stares at him, mouth open.

   “Well?” Harry asks, a bit uncertain. “Mark me up.”

***

“This is ridiculous,” Harry says. He pulls at his tight long-sleeved black shirt that is buttoned up to the collar and shifts around in his leather trousers, which are the tightest he’s ever worn and that’s saying something. “How do you move in this? It’s like a second skin.”

   “That’s the point,” Zayn replies. He balances his sword in his right hand, swinging it as he walks.

   “Baggy clothes would just slow us down. Technically, we’d move better naked,” Louis comments and winks wickedly. Harry sputters and fumbles with his long-sword, almost dropping it. Zayn scoffs. Harry coughs awkwardly and tried not to think of Louis naked. He fails, just a bit. He scratches at the skin of his arm. Before they had left, Louis had marked him up with several runes. Harry has regular tattoos himself and he finds that Marks hurt much less.

   “Where is this demon anyways?” Louis asks impatiently.

   “Demons,” Zayn corrects him. He twists his sword in a circle, bouncing on the soles of his feet to get warmed up. Harry rolls his shoulders back and weighs his own weapon in hand. It is heavy and he doesn’t dare try to swing. He’ll just end up hurting himself. “Ashtower said there’d be more than one. Keep track of your boyfriend back there. It looks like he’s about to chop his own head off.”

   Harry freezes with his sword up at shoulder-height. Louis sighs and takes hold of his wrist, forcing it back down to his side. He lingers for a moment, though, letting him know that he’s here. He knows that Harry doesn’t exactly feel comfortable like this.

   A scrambling noise sounds a few feet ahead. The three boys stop dead in their tracks. Louis and Zayn bend their knees and loosens their wrists to get better grips on their weapons. Harry copies their stance uncertainly. They scan their surroundings.

   “Shit!” Zayn curses when a thin shape flings itself at him. He raises his sword just in time and hacks the thing in two. What lies on the ground seems to be some sort of maggot but enlarged to almost a human size.

   “It’s a Drevak,” Louis wrinkles his nose. “They aren’t usually found in the city. One must have gotten lost and laid eggs here instead. Disgusting things.” The dead corpse exudes some sort of black ichor and inflates until it seems to disappear into the ground. Harry gags, making a face. Louis notices and gives him a sympathetic look. Zayn just ignores him and continues down the alley. They are in the very center of London. It is late at night and practically no one is out, but just to be safe, they are glamoured.     

   Louis turns a corner and freezes. Zayn and Harry bump into him from behind and are about to open their mouths to speck, but Louis holds his hand up. He clenches his hand harder around his sword and nods ahead. Harry lifts his gaze and sees a few writhing figures on the ground ahead of them. They are white, with swollen bodies. They look like worms, but with vicious mouths that have spikes instead of teeth, dripping with venom. Zayn tenses and adopts his fighting stance once again. Harry copies him as before and they all dive into the fight.

   Harry stumbles his first few steps but slices his way through three of the demons. He feels pretty accomplished, but then he sets eyes on the other two. Zayn has effectively killed off more than five at least, judging by the amount of black ichor around him and one lays on his chest, writhing around while he struggles to get to his sword. Harry kicks it over to him and he picks it up, stabbing it through the Drevak’s side. It lets out a horrible noise and Zayn throws it off before it can cover him in goo.

   Louis’ situation is just a tad bit worse. Two of the demons wriggle at his feet, seeming to sniff him before lunging. One is twirling around his arm, cutting off his blood supply. It is about to sink its teeth into him but Harry moves quickly. He comes up behind Louis, pulling him back by draping an arm across his chest and yanking him back, getting access to the demon. He brings out a dagger, from a sheath on his leg and stabs the thing, making it hiss in pain. It unfurls itself from Louis’ arm and fall to the ground to shrivel up and die. The two at their feet Zayn stabs at, fast as a bullet. Those things didn’t even see it coming. He doesn’t even feel sorry for them. Nobody touches Louis.

   Harry still has his arm wrapped around him and the boy settles back into his embrace with a sigh of relief. Zayn sheathes his sword and then rubs his hands over his face. His back is still tense and Harry can see he is still keeping a look-out for more demons. Louis’ Sensor isn’t showing anything else so they must have killed of the last of them. Harry buries his face into the crook of Louis’ neck which is damp with sweat. Louis sets his hand over Harry’s and laces their fingers together.

   “We should get back,” Zayn says, coming over. Louis sets a hand on his arm, just for comfort and Harry knows he shouldn’t feel jealous, because the two are Parabatai and in the Shadowhunter world, that means everything. “Ashtower probably wants us back at the Institute as soon as possible.”

   Louis and Harry nod simultaneously, not entirely breaking from their embrace. Harry keeps an arm around his shoulder, sword sheathed and nose buried into his hair.

 

When they get back to the Institute, they go straight for the weapons room, stripping everything off and wiping their swords down of all the demon blood. They treat all their cuts. Louis draws an _iratze_ just below a cut on Harry’s neck. It fades bit by bit and the boy cranes his neck to press a little kiss to it. Since Harry hasn’t fully mastered the technique of drawing Marks, Zayn gets the honour to draw all of them on Louis.

   When they are on their way to the Library to speak to Paul, Harry winds his fingers through Louis’ and presses their sides together. In the hallway, they meet Perrie and three other Shadowhunters; Jade, Jesy and Leigh-Anne. Zayn wraps his arms around his wife’s waist and pulls her in close.

   “Alright on your end?” She asks and Harry knows they’ve been out in battle, too. They dealt with a nest of Raveners, along with four other Shadowhunter boys, by the names of George, J.J, Jaymi and Josh.

   “Yeah,” Zayn says. “And yours?”

   Jade speaks up, shrugging. “We did alright. George got hurt though. Took a nasty bite. He’s in the Infirmary, now.”

   “Is he going to be okay?” Louis asks, sounding concerned. Harry remembers that Louis has mentioned George before. He had taught him in Demonology, a few years back. Jesy has her pinky hooked through Jade’s.

   “He’ll be fine,” She says. “The boys are taking care of him.” Louis nods, comforted and leans his head on Harry’s shoulder. The girls coo at him and he flashes his middle finger at them.

   “Oh, sod off. I’m tired.”

   They all laugh and pass them down the hallway. Perrie leans up and kisses Zayn on the cheek, then follows them. The three boys continue on their path to Ashtower, dragging their feet slightly. The fire is crackling in the fireplace as usual. The room is toasty warm and the boys breathe out, relaxed by the familiar smell of leather-bound books. They turn to look towards Paul’s desk and Harry’s eyes widen.

   “Ah boys,” Paul says. “You’re back. This is Liam Payne Silverdoe. He’s been undercover for a while, but he’s back, now.”

   The man turns around and Harry’s jaw just about drops. It’s Liam. His roommate Liam. As in his best friend Liam.

   _What the actual fuck,_ Harry thinks. The boy sets eyes on him and gulps.

   “Oh shit,” Liam says.         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed xx


	3. You know my heart by heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More adventures of Shadowhunters woooo  
> (I still suck at summaries, don't judge me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All credit for the Shadowhunter world goes to Cassandra Clare, who I hope knows of her ingenious mind, to have created all this stuff.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

   Harry is lying—through his fucking teeth. He is leaning back against the big round Library table, clutching his hand while Louis and Zayn help Liam back up on his feet. Harry had thrown a punch strong enough to knock the beefy guy down to the floor. It wasn’t like he didn’t have reasons. For a whole year, Liam had lied to him about who he was and what he knew. They had shared an apartment in the toughest of times and pulled through for one another and only now does it come up that he is an undercover demon hunter, disguised as a struggling Uni student.

   _Yeah, wonder why that never came up in late-night conversations_ , Harry thinks. He looks up as Louis approaches, stele in hand. He gets a steely glare as the smaller boy grabs his hand and scrawls an _iratze_ just on the inside of his wrist.

   Paul braces his hands on his desk. “Mr. Merrytree, it wasn’t necessary to punch him. A few strongly worded sentences would have sufficed.”

   “He deserved it for lying to me,” Harry grumbles and the pressure Louis has on his hand increases, making it a little harder for the healing rune to do its job. He ignores it, though. “And for spying on me for my dad. Did you have a camera? Where did you hide it—in the turtle? There has always been something fishy about that turtle.”

   “There is nothing wrong with the turtle,” Liam protests, seemingly offended. “He’s just grumpy because you stepped on him on the first day.”

   “Oh please,” says Harry. “Like a turtle has a brain bigger than a peanut.”

   “Turtles are actually really intelligent animals,” Zayn remarks and Harry rolls his eyes.

   “Thanks for that useless fact,” He says and Louis slaps his forearm, giving him a stern look. Harry’s eyes soften and he slumps his shoulders. “Sorry, Zaynie.”

   “I told you to stop calling me that,” The boy growls under his breath. Louis grins and hops up on the table-top, swinging his legs, making the weapons sheathed along his legs clink together. His hands clench over the edge of the table and it makes the muscles in his arms stand out, Marks starkly contrasting with his tan skin.

   “Yeah,” Louis says wickedly. “Only I get to call him names. The pros of being _parabatai_.” Zayn makes a face at him and crosses his arms, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

   “No offense, but do you mind?” Liam says, gesturing to his jaw which is bruising. Louis sighs and is about to hop down to help him, but Harry keeps him close by holding his waist and lets Zayn handle it instead. The darker-haired boy steps up to the plate, taking out his stele and draws on the skin of Liam’s neck. The rune is done quickly and Zayn shoves his stele back in his boot before moving towards the table where Louis and Harry are. He presses his shoulder to his _parabatai_. Harry is used to their closeness now. They had explained that being someone’s _parabatai_ is bonding with someone until death. Like marriage, but more permanent and surely more painful.

   “Liam will be continuing his training at the Institute,” says Paul. “While still attending university with Niall Horan and you, Mr. Merrytree.”

   Harry breathes in deeply, shifting uncomfortably. “I’d rather you call me Styles, not Merrytree. Or just Harry is fine.”

   “But, Merrytree is your Shadowhunter name. It has been handed down to you through generations.”

   “It just doesn’t feel like…” Harry hesitates, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt. “Like it belongs to me just yet.” Louis shuffles closer to him. It is a small movement, but enough to let Harry know that he is there.

   Right now, the Library feels so big. The shelves that line the wall are full with books and that’s how Harry’s life currently feels like; a ton of problems and riddles just waiting to be solved. The scent inside the room is rather earthen, but he supposes that it’s the fire’s work. The space feels too open and the high ceiling feels like it could come crashing down, crushing them all in one fall. Harry’s chest constricts and he clasps Louis’ hand in his, the touch grounding him to the spot. His other hand has fully healed now. He stretches and shakes it out, looking at Liam with a sheepish expression.

   “Sorry for hitting you,” He says. “But you fucking deserved it. Don’t ever lie to me again.”

   “It’s okay,” Liam replies and then nods towards Louis. “Nice to finally meet you, though. Harry’s been chatting my ear off about you for the past couple of months.”

   Harry has the decency to duck his head down to hide his blush, but Louis just smiles and strokes the inside of his arm comfortingly. “Of course he has. Who wouldn’t talk about me? I’m a delight.”

   Louis promptly ignores Zayn’s scoff.

***

After Liam has gone back to the apartment with Niall, it is dinner time for the Shadowhunters. Usually, they just order take-out, but now Louis’ family has come to visit from Idris.

   The kitchen is filled with shouts and laughter and bumbling kids and Harry can barely fit his limbs inside the room, almost tripping over two girls bustling around. He keeps check of all the pots and pans with Louis’ mum, Jay and stirs from time to time, having to move around with one kid hanging off of his waist while another clings to his leg. He turns around and he thinks his heart might beat right out of his chest.

   Louis is currently holding one of his younger siblings gently in his arms, cooing at Ernest, one of the newer twins to have joined the family. His soft fringe is falling down from his head and hangs in front of his eyes as he brings the baby up to kiss his forehead. He sits at the round table, legs tucked under him, loose jumper hanging off of him.

   Harry stands there frozen, wooden spoon still held aloft as he ignores the writhing children at his feet. He has never felt luckier to have his boyfriend.

   “Harry, love,” Jay says amusedly. “I suggest you keep an eye on the food. Wouldn’t want the Institute burning down. Think of the children.”

   “The children?” Zayn comes in, scoffing, yanking a bread bun from a basket on the counter, kissing Jay on the cheek simultaneously. “Think of the weapons.”

   Jay swings at him with her spatula, him neatly ducking away to avoid getting slapped across the face. “Oi, mister. Weapons can always be made again.”

   “So can children,” Zayn grins wickedly over his bite of bread. He bends down to greet Doris in her little crib, nuzzling her tummy, making her bubble up with laughter. “Hello, little one.”

   “Zee-zee!” A shrill voice shrieks. A girl around the age of ten jumps up into Zayn’s arms and bops his nose.

   “Hey, Fizz. Were you hiding under the table?”

   The girl nods, the same hint of mischief on her face as Louis’, and Zayn grins, shifting her up higher in his grip. He swings by Jay again, swiping another bun and handing it to Fizz.

   More Shadowhunters come spilling in, some dumping their weapons sloppily by the door and some just coming in to grab a plate and then heading off to their rooms. Josh, George, J.J and Jaymii all take their food to go, saying hello to Jay and the kids first. Louis gets a pat on the shoulder from George before the younger boy heads off with the others. Jade, Jesy, Leigh-Anne and Perrie have gone out for dinner, but they had stopped to say goodbye and then they left with a kiss and a hug for everyone.

   When dinner has been served and all the children fed properly, they are near ready to pass out from fatigue. A few of the girls have closed their eyes and drifted off and the newborn twins are asleep in Louis’ and Jay’s arms. Upon leaving the kitchen, Jay has Doris in her arms while Louis has Ernest and Harry has one kid draped drowsily across his back, arms wrapped around his neck as he has another girl gripped in his arms. Zayn has one balanced on his hip, dozing off into his neck while Lottie, the oldest of the girls walks beside them, rubbing her eyes.

   Zayn and Harry drop the four girls off in their own rooms while Jay and Louis move towards theirs with the newborns. Harry hears them chatting a bit, quietly, but he is suddenly occupied with getting all of the girls’ teeth brushed and jammies put on and he tucks them in with Zayn’s help. It doesn’t take long for them to hear heavy breathing which is their cue to leave.

   “Goodnight Zayn,” Harry says, hands stuffed in his pockets. “See you in training tomorrow.”

   “Hey, wait,” The older boy says. Harry pauses, brows drawn together in question. “I just want to say that...that you—“

Zayn sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair. His frustration seems to strike him deep; he can’t get his words out. He gestures for a moment and struggles. “You make Louis happy. I just want you to know that. I can see it—the way he looks at you. He’s happy. And I want him to stay that way. So, if you hurt him, I will smack you. His heartbreak is my heartbreak. It’s kind of what this entails.”

   The boy taps the _parabatai_ rune on his neck. Harry nods. “I’m not going to hurt him. He makes me happy, too. This whole experience”—he waves a hand around the large hallway arch and the intricate designs on the ceiling—“has been a roller coaster ride, not always the good kind, and I feel like the only thing keeping me focused is him. Breaking his heart would break mine, too. God, this sounds so cheesy but it’s true. I don’t plan on leaving him any time soon. If anything, I’m afraid he’s gonna leave me.”

   “H, I’ve known him for basically my whole life. I know what he looks like when he has strong feelings for someone. When he’s in love.”

   “He’s been in love before?” Harry can’t help but ask. Zayn smiles fractionally.

   “Once,” He answers, looking down at the floor momentarily. “Unrequited. Louis wallowed for weeks. I don’t want him to go through the same thing with you.”

   “It’s not unrequited this time,” Harry says. “Trust me.”

   Zayn nods, kicking at the ground and they are silent for a while before he claps Harry’s arm and retreats down the hall. “Goodnight,” he calls. Harry raises a hand and when Zayn’s rounded the corner, he brings it down and bites on the skin between his fingers. The door to Jay’s room is closed and just as he is about to knock on Louis’, he hears soft singing. It’s Louis. He sings:

_Black for hunting through the night_

_For death and mourning the colour’s white_

_Gold for a bride in her wedding dress_

_And red to call enchantment down_

_White silk when our bodies burn_

_Blue banners when our lost return_

_Flame for the birth of Nephilim_

_And to wash away our sins_

_Gray for knowledge best untold_

_Bone for those who don’t grow old_

_Saffron lights the victory march_

_Green will mend our broken hearts_

_Silver for the demon towers_

_And bronze to summon wicked powers_

 

   Harry raises his eyebrows. He hadn’t expected Louis’ voice to sound quite like that, though it fits him like a glove; low and raspy notes shifting into a high, soft pitch. It makes Harry’s heart swell that much more when he sees that he is sitting down next to the crib where his twin brother and sister sleep.

   “Quite the lullaby,” He says eventually, interrupting the soft thicket of silence. Louis turns his eyes and his smile is blinding. Harry realizes he could stare at him and never want to look away ever.

   “Yeah,” Louis rises from his position and meets him halfway in the room. “Mum used to sing it to me when I was little. I don’t know if she does it with them, but I like to anyways.”

   Harry nods and settles a hand on his cheek. “What are they doing in here?” He asks, not unkindly. Louis sighs and steps closer, ducking his head to rest against his chest.

   “Mum looked so tired. I figured she could use a good night’s rest. So, I offered to take them.”

   Harry tilts his chin up and stares into his eyes. They are so blue and they sparkle with tiredness, but Harry thinks they look so gorgeous in this light, cast by the moon from the window. “You’re a good brother. Better than most, I’d say.”

   Louis scrunches his nose up. “But I never see them.”

   “You make well enough up for that by doing things like this. No one can ever say you don’t love them, or don’t care. If someone does, I’ll feed them to the ghosts you have locked up in your basement.”

Louis laughs. He strains his body against Harry’s to reach his mouth with his own and slides them together softly. The kiss does deepen, but Harry is being so careful with his hands, not wanting to wake the children, that it doesn’t go anywhere further than that. They slip into bed. It’s not even a question anymore; Harry sleeps in Louis’ room every night now. It is sort of against Zayn’s and Paul’s wishes, but they don’t give a flying fuck, to be honest.

   Even if they were forbidden, they’d do it anyways.

***

Harry is on the brink of sleep.

   His head is slowly lolling forward and backward and his eyes droop closed, brain shutting out the rest of the world. His hands are limp in his lap and his pen is soon going to fall out of his grasp. He is slumped down in his chair in the back of his human rights class. It is an interesting class and Harry would be jotting down notes and eagerly participating in conversations if he wasn’t so fucking tired.

   Training sessions with Zayn, Perrie and Liam have been kicking his arse—brutally. They don’t let him train with Louis because they think that the boy might be slightly biased when it comes to his boyfriend. He sleeps at the Institute every night now. He makes sure he sees Niall at least once a day in Uni so they won’t drift apart, but amongst all that, he needs to keep track of his grades, his health, his whereabouts for demons, his diet, his training and skill sessions and his family and friends. Harry is knackered.

   “Mr. Styles,” says a voice that seems so far away. Then, it comes back clearer. “Mr. Styles! No dosing off in my class, I hope.” It’s his teacher.

   “No, no, I’m sorry, not at all, just…absorbing everything and processing and—I’ll just…shut up now,” Harry says and sinks down further in his seat, scratching the side of his neck, fiddling with his pen. He sighs and draws in his notebook, giving up on focusing since all he can seem to think about is his Shadowhunter lessons. He thinks about how he can improve his swing and use his body fully when fighting and when he’s been sitting like that for a while, just pondering, he realizes that he’s drawn the angelic rune in the lower right corner of his notebook. He rolls his eyes and tosses his pen down. He needs to practice on his rune-drawing, too, apparently. He rubs his temples and tries to ignore the tingling in his fingers as he longs to wield his sword. He wants to have Louis by his side, covering him in protective runes and fighting alongside him and Zayn. Liam could come, too—if he behaves.

   The lesson seems to drag on forever and eventually he just leans his head back and stares at the ceiling. He cracks his knuckles and blinks drowsily.

   “Excuse me,” Harry perks up, wide-eyed at the sound of the familiar voice. “Is Harry Styles here?”

   It is Louis. He is leaning forward through the door-opening with a polite smile on his face, eyes shining. He has a light beige trench-coat on that looks about five sizes too big and is probably swiped from the teachers’ lounge. It is quite obvious that he has gear on underneath. The boy hasn’t bothered to put his glamour on, so his runes can be seen, twirling up around his wrists and his Voyance rune is sticking out against the tanned skin of the back of his hand. His hair is slightly ruffled and he looks like he might burst at the seams as his body radiates the sense of urgency.

   Harry can see the change in the students as their focus shifts completely to the boy at the door. Harry grins because yes, the boy is gorgeous, but he is taken.

   “Yes, can I help you?” His teacher asks, quite mesmerized herself. Harry begins packing his things already, because he knows, without a doubt, that Louis will get him out of here.

   “I need to borrow him for just a quick moment, please,” says Louis, lips stretching wide across his face.

   “May I ask what for?”

   “Two demons and a werewolf are battling it out in an alley nearby and I need his help,” Louis deadpans and Harry panics for a moment. What the hell does he think he’s doing? But Harry’s teacher just scoffs and waves a hand at them both.

   “Alright, no need for dramatics. Just have him back as soon as possible.”

   Harry hears a faint whistle as he passes his classmates and he grins and takes Louis’ hand, waltzing away from the room with sure strides. “Were you serious about the demons?”

   “I don’t joke about stuff like that,” Louis is grinning. Harry does the same and brings him in closer, pressing a kiss to his temple.

   Zayn is outside, leaning against a graffiti-painted van that looks absolutely sick, and he has his hands jammed in his pockets, looking around the campus, ignoring the looks he gets from girls and boys alike and pretending he doesn’t know just how gorgeous he looks.

   Harry rolls his eyes as the boy’s eyes land on them and he shoves away from the van, opening the door and hopping in to the driver seat. “Guess I’ll have to open my own door, then. Thanks, Zaynie,” Harry calls out sarcastically, throwing the passenger door open and pointedly looking away from the boy’s glare. At least, he doesn’t correct him about the nickname.

   Louis takes out his stele and grabs Harry’s arm, pulling him closer and drawing different kinds of runes; strength on his inner wrist, precision on his left forearm, heightened speed on his bicep and stamina on the back of his neck. He draws a few more, like one for energy and heightened senses because Louis notices how tired he looks.

\--

The alley is dirty and reeks of something nasty that Harry really doesn’t want to find out the source of. The sun doesn’t reach this place so it is damp, dank and uncomfortably moist. The van is parked at the mouth of the alley so they are hidden when Zayn yanks the back doors open and a whole weaponry is shown. Swords and maces and clubs line the walls while whips, daggers, brass knuckles and _adamas_ knives litter the benches. A few chests of drawers are pulled up against the walls, probably containing even more weapons. In a stack leaning against the bench, different kinds of bows are displayed; compound bows, long bows and crossbows, among others. Quivers are stacked beneath them, full of arrows.

   Zayn hops up into the van and starts pulling weapons to him and Louis follows. Harry hesitates a while longer, wondering just how many they really will need. He lifts his leg and hoists himself up, grabbing a belt which he fills up with _adamas_ knives. He sees that his sword, _Animus_ , meaning bravery, is lying on the bench and he smiles as he swipes it, shoving it into a sheath and attaching it to his belt. Harry doesn’t have his gear so he has to settle with putting on a tight black vest over his white t-shirt and replacing his worn suede boots with heavier ones of leather. He sees Louis shove two long daggers into thin sheaths and attach them to his sides and grab a recurve bow and strap it to his back as he takes a quiver as well. Zayn takes a broadsword from one of the stands and balances it in his hand.

   Harry feels his heart beat faster; he’s excited. He has never once previously though that he would ever be excited for something like this, but he supposes it gives some sort of rush of adrenalin to be in danger. He swings his curls into place as he and the two other boys jump down from the van and Zayn closes the doors firmly, locking them. Harry unsheathes his sword and shifts it in his grip a few times. Louis nears and draws a heart on Harry’ shoulder with his finger.

   It’s sort of become their thing now. When Harry fought for the third time and they were in real danger, being overwhelmed by demons, as an impulse, Louis had drawn a single small heart on the back of the hand holding _Animus_. They have kept it up ever since, as a way of tradition.

   After that, the three of them plunge into battle.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weeee me again! Dunno if this should be the last part so I'm keeping it open if I ever have inspiration thrust upon me. But as always I hope you liked it and comments and kudos aren't unwelcome (hint hint nudge nudge xx) Thanks so much for reading, you lovely people. (I'm on a sugar high, excuse you xD)  
> Tumblr> Support-the-ships  
> Come talk to me if you so desire

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is nice. Thank you so much for reading xx  
> If you want to find me on Tumblr: support-the-ships


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